


as simple as breathing.

by avatraang



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: F/M, I love it so much, IT WAS SO FUN TO WRITE, Tokka Week 2020, this is one of my fave fics ever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:54:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26352232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avatraang/pseuds/avatraang
Summary: Their composition is an easy one; as simple as breathing. Toph falls asleep with that knowledge, that their constitution is as set in stone as nature. In the morning, Sokka is still holding her, and it isn’t until he wakes up, complaining about a headache, that Toph detangles herself from his arms. They don’t mention how they wake up; they don’t need to. It’s another constitution that came as naturally as the first.[Oneshot. Written for Tokka Week 2020, Day 2. A short story on Tokka through the years, and all the times they serve as the other's constitution.]
Relationships: Toph Beifong/Sokka
Comments: 12
Kudos: 109





	as simple as breathing.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CameraLux (TinCanTelephone)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TinCanTelephone/gifts).



> Tokka Week 2020, Day Two! Today's prompts were "Anchor" and "Constitution", but I decided to stick strictly with constitution. Thank you AGAIN to @CameraLux(TinCanTelephone) for beta'ing this fic! I have gifted it to her because this was one of her favorites, and she deserves ALL the presents. PLEASE go check out her Tokka fics; you won't regret it! 
> 
> As per usual, check me out on tumblr: @avatraang. 
> 
> This is one of my favorite works I've ever written; I hope you enjoy it as much as I do! By all means, drop me a comment/kudo if you do ;)

> _Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind,  
>  And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind. _

**-Shakespeare.**

* * *

** con·sti·tu·tion **

/ˌkänstəˈt(y)o͞oSH(ə)n/

_ noun _

noun: **constitution; **plural noun: **constitutions**

  1. **_a body of fundamental principles or established precedents according to which a state or other organization is acknowledged to be governed._**



Toph is 23 when Sokka tells her he’s addicted to smoking.

“What, like, weed?” Toph says, lazily rocking back and forth in her chair. The sun is setting; she can feel the warmth leaving her skin. “You know that’s, like, scientifically impossible, right?”

“No, I – how do you know it’s impossible?” Sokka distracts himself, fidgeting with something she can’t see.

“You haven’t heard of the studies?” Toph quirks a brow at him, picking at the nail of her thumb. “Zuko and I were talking about it the other day.”

Sokka snorts. “No wonder you know about it. _Zuko_ told you.”

“...and?”

“The King of Weed!”

“I thought he was the King of the Fire Nation?” Toph smirks, sinking deeper into her chair.

Sokka glares; Toph can’t see it.

“Anyways, we were discussing its side effects and stuff. Apparently, addiction isn’t one of them. At least, not physical withdrawal. Maybe mental. Zuko doesn’t really want to find out.” She turns her face towards Sokka. A part of her wants to reach out and see what the hell he’s playing with. It sounds like metal. “So, you’re not addicted to weed?”

“No. I mean like… actual. Smoking. Nicotine.”

“Actual. Smoking?” Toph turns her head in his direction.

She hears him swallow. The warmth of the sun is gone; now it’s just dark outside. Or, at least, she thinks it’s dark. 

Toph finds herself quickly growing cold. “Huh. Why are you telling me this?”

Sokka stops fidgeting. Toph realizes he must see her shivering, because he shoves his light jacket unceremoniously onto her lap. She considers flipping him off and shoving it back, but it really is kind of cold, so she drapes it around her shoulders and acts like his chivalry is only mildly insulting instead of very pleasing.

“I dunno.” Sokka flicks something open; Toph realizes it’s a box. He closes it again; there’s a striking of a match, and then the stench of a cigarette fills the air. “I think I want to quit.”

Toph sniffs the air; she’s never minded cigarettes. It reminds her of her Earth Rumble days. Dirty men, spilled drinks, horrid language, and awful cigarettes. Still, she’s not stupid; she knows it’s bad for you. Yet, Toph has never been keen on taking away someone’s personal freedoms… even if it’s the right to ruin their own life. “Are you sure?”

She hears him take a drag; she smells the release. “I… yeah.”

“Why are you coming to me about it?” Toph can’t help but ask. “Why not Katara? Or Aang?”

He nudges her with his toe. “Because Katara would’ve been ashamed of me and Aang would’ve been too nice. You won’t coddle me and you won’t give in. I trust you.”

“Alright.” Toph shrugs. “Let’s set some rules in place.”

“Rules?”

“Duh.” Toph snorts. “Go get some paper.” She hears Sokka waiver for half a second, doing as she asks. Upon his return, Toph begins to dictate rules for them; every once in a while, Sokka adds his own, until five are scribbled on the parchment. “Alright.” Toph nods. “Now sign it.”

“Sign it?”

“Yeah.”

Taking another drag, Sokka does as she asks. Toph follows.

A beat passes. Then, Toph swipes away Sokka’s cigarette just as he’s about to bring it to his lips; the box follows, and she throws it neatly underground, never to be seen again. The smell of his cigarette is carried away by a breeze. Toph can practically _feel_ Sokka’s jaw drop.

“Toph!” Sokka gripes, “what the hell?!”

Toph shrugs, “You’re the one that agreed to this constitution. Welcome to Cold Turkey Duck with Toph.” She grins wickedly at him, standing up to walk inside. “You’re gonna hate it!”

She is shrugging off her day clothes when she realizes Sokka’s coat is still in her possession. Toph considers giving it back, but then, it’s not like he’s gonna _pay_ her for helping him quit. The jacket, Toph figures, is an equal trade.

* * *

  1. **_the composition of something._**



Toph is 27 when she stops to think of the constitution of _them_ (that is, of Toph and Sokka). She supposes neither of them ever noticed how they began; the way they were formed was something as natural as breathing. The binding moment, however, was (literally) a thing forged through fire. Toph can’t see, but when she thinks of fear she thinks of holding on for literal life, and only feeling a warm, sweaty, calloused hand gripping her in return. When Toph thinks of loss, she thinks of the _zing_ of metal as it cuts through air, and the cry of a young man as he chooses his best friend over his most prized possession.

They’ve never spoken about it. But Toph knows that’s the moment that united them, that made them inseparable.

She tries to remember the constitution of them, as she picks him up from her bathroom floor. He smells a little like distilled frozen cactus juice, but mostly like his aftershave and pine. It’s a change from his scent just a short four years ago, when she’d associated the smell of tobacco with him. Of course, when he’d successfully quit smoking (thanks to her, if Toph does say so herself), that smell had been replaced. She thinks his new scent suits him _much_ better.

“Why do we always end up here? Every year.” Toph asks, more to herself than him. Her patience is thin; Toph is _tired._

“Because it’s _funnnnnnn!”_ Sokka draws out the N in the word, which further serves to irk her.

“You’re even more annoying than usual when you’re drunk.”

“I’m annoying?” His voice is quiet; Toph can’t see, but she can tell he’s giving her a heartbroken look.

She sighs. She can never hurt his feelings when he gives her that oh-so specific tone. Toph is starting to think he’s caught on to her weakness. “No.”

Sokka grins at her; she can feel it. Hauling him out of the bathroom, Toph pulls him into her room; Sokka manages to climb into the bed himself. She moves to leave, when Sokka stops her. “Where’re you goin’?”

“To get you water.”

“You’re com’n’ back?”

Toph stares. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Sokka pauses, as if to think. “Not everything in life is like a boomerang.” The statement is solemn; it leaves the room with a heavy air to it. Sokka looks somber.

“Ooookay,” Toph mutters, walking out. She leaves the door open.

She chooses to ignore whatever that was, instead grabbing her best friend some water, and some herbs for the morning. Silently, she thanks the Spirits that she’d abstained from drinking tonight; Zuko had taken an absolutely plastered Aang and Katara back to their home, Ty Lee had handled Mai and Suki, and Toph – as per fucking usual – got the honor of handling the birthday boy. Her best friend. Trekking back to the room, she finds Sokka laying down already. She senses his shoes and his shirt thrown on the floor. Huh. That was quick. Toph sets the water on her nightstand and is about to walk out when Sokka catches her wrist. He pulls her towards him, gently. She can’t say she’s surprised; they both get needy when they’re drunk.

Usually she’d fight him, but Sokka is lucky. Today is his day. Kicking off her shoes and turning away from him to remove her bindings (but leaving her top tunic on), Toph then climbs into bed and allows Sokka to hold her.

“Not everything in life is like a boomerang.” Sokka mutters, into her ear. “But you are. Thanks, Toph. ‘M glad I know you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Toph rolls her eyes and scoots closer to him. “Happy birthday, you dumbass.”

“Mm.”

Their composition is an easy one; as simple as breathing. Toph falls asleep with that knowledge, that their constitution is as set in stone as nature. In the morning, Sokka is still holding her, and it isn’t until he wakes up, complaining about a headache, that Toph detangles herself from his arms. They don’t mention how they wake up; they don’t need to. It’s another constitution that came as naturally as the first.

* * *

  1. **_a person's physical state with regard to vitality, health, and strength._**



Toph is 33 when she registers that Sokka is physically aging.

He’s sitting on her floor, piecing together a crib for her (why she can’t just bend it, she doesn’t know), and once it’s done, he gets up with a loud, unceremonious, _groan._ He sounds like a Moose Lion waking up in the morning. It startles Toph; she stills in the middle of brushing her hair. Her belly, swollen from pregnancy, trembles a bit.

“Are you okay?” Toph asks, continuing on with her duty. Her hair won’t brush itself, after all.

“Yeah.” It comes out as a sigh. “Sorry. My knees are giving me more trouble by the day.”

It hits her like a train wreck that Sokka is _aging._ He’s 36. _Thirty-six._ Her mind can’t quite comprehend the fact that Sokka will one day be gone from the world, so instead Toph focuses on the now: his knees are hurting. She hears him pick up some of his tools and set it on her tea table.

Groaning, Sokka pops his back. “Oof, that felt good. My back’s been killing me, too.”

 _And_ his back?

Age has weakened his constitution, and Toph cannot bear the thought of it. “You need to take more herbs,” she snaps, setting her brush down and dragging him into her kitchen. If there’s one thing high society taught her, it was the importance of medicine. “Let me make you some tea. After that, we’ll go to the shops and I’ll pick out some herbs for you to take, to help with all that.” Toph pushes Sokka onto one of her stools, where he sits, dumbfounded.

She wants to add a quip about how partying so hard when he was younger probably worsened his physical state, but she doesn’t. Sokka grew out of his wild birthdays a while back, and Toph has learned to be more careful with how she pushes buttons, and when.

So instead, she begins to ramble on about the importance of health, until Sokka holds up a hand to stop her.

“Chill, Toph.” His voice is almost haughty. She can _feel_ him smirking. “My sister is a healer. You know, your _friend? Katara?_ I’ll be fine.”

Her eyes narrow. Sokka wavers.

“ _Katara_ isn’t gonna be your next door neighbor forever, you know.” Toph slams the tea down in front of him. “But if you want to die at forty and leave me here alone, fine. I see how it is.” She says it with more emotion than intended. Sokka stills. Belatedly, Toph realizes she admitted that she might miss him more than she’s let on, come time for his life to… end. Her cheeks flush.

“Wait, what?”

“Nothing.” But her tone is too bitter, and she responds too quickly, with too much bite. Toph looks away. 

She feels his hand fall on top of hers; Toph balls her fist up, but he’s much larger than her and engulfs her tiny fingers, anyway. “Toph Beifong. Are you afraid of losing me?”

“ _No.”_ Toph says, yet she chokes on the word.

“Hey.” Sokka reaches over her table and runs a thumb across her cheek. “I may be getting older, but so are you. You’re not gonna lose me, Toph. I’m right here with you.” He pauses, and then gently touches her belly. “ _Both_ of you. No matter what.”

Toph’s fist slowly relaxes; Sokka entwines their fingers. “Don’t tell anyone about this.”

“I wouldn’t dare.” Sokka waggles his eyebrows suggestively at her.

“That speech was cute, by the way, but don’t think you’re getting out of this. Grab your stuff, we’re getting you herbs.”

Sokka whines. “But Toph-”

“Am I really the person you want to argue with?”

He sulks. And does what she asks.

As they walk to the market, Sokka’s hand finds hers. They don’t say anything about it, but their smiles come a little easier and their postures are more relaxed. Toph supposes that though he’s aged, Sokka’s constitution remains steady; he is still strong. And so is she.

That night, after she teaches him how to take his herbs, Sokka lays his head down on Toph’s lap and talks to the baby growing in her womb. Eventually, he quiets down and falls asleep there. Their hearts beat in time. Toph thinks that’s a good representation of them: they’ve always been stronger together.

* * *

> _  
> Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength,_ _  
> __while loving someone deeply gives you courage._

**― Lao Tzu**


End file.
